Making Assumptions
by Onc3l8rWagon
Summary: When Merida tries to escape the castle for an afternoon of horseback riding and target practice, she runs into Young Macintosh. When the two of them start talking about the unfairness of the contest to win her hand in marriage, she discovers they have more in common than she thought. Post-movie. Mostly friendship, though sliiiight shipping if you squint. Hope you enjoy!


**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters used in this fanfic. Buuuut I hope you enjoy it, anyways! :D**

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The morning before the three clans were scheduled to sail away, the skies were overcast. Large gray clouds moved at a slow, lazy pace across the skyline, spotty patches of sunlight filtering through here and there along the way. Even the ocean, which was normally teeming with life and glistening under the daytime sunlight, was glassy and slate-gray. The landscape was unusually quiet, save for the occasional sounds of birds cawing as they flew from tree to tree. There was a cool, crisp breeze blowing outside, promising rainstorms later in the day. The pine trees bent in submission to the winds, the entire Scottish hillside like a gloomy Gothic portrait as Princess Merida stared pensively out her bedroom window. Resting her cheek against the palm of her hand, propping her right elbow on the granite edge of the window, her left hand drumming her fingers restlessly against the stone, she sighed heavily.

Given the excitement of the past few days, one would think that perhaps the thrill wouldn't fade away so quickly. Yet, everything had managed to settle back into the little circle of normalcy faster than anyone had expected, least of all Merida. If she were being completely honest with herself, she really still hadn't recovered from the incident involving her mother, nor did she think she ever truthfully would. All her life, she had viewed her mother as the one with real power in their royal household, the one with a complete monopoly over every little aspect of their lives. More specifically, Princess Merida's life. And for so long, she had done her best just to keep that frustration bottled up inside her, but that tight coil in her heart had been wound far too tightly when her mother had thrown her most prized possession, her bow, into the hearth. Looking back on it, both Merida and her mother had behaved so childishly that day. It almost embarrassed her to think about how angry the two of them had gotten over a situation that could have been avoided, if they had just discussed things.

Though, once she had given the entire ordeal some thought, she realized that she was glad that it had happened. In a strange, roundabout way, it had brought Merida closer to her mother, and made her see that what she had wanted all along was for her to understand her daughter. And, along the way, she felt confident that _she_, too, had gained a new respect and empathy for the queen, as well. After reviewing the whole event in her mind for what seemed like the millionth time, Merida wondered if it should alarm or amuse her that it had taken a magic spell that threatened to turn her mother into a wild animal for the rest of her life to get the two of them to see eye-to-eye. A mixture of both, she would expect. Still, it had come as a surprise to her just how well she had been able to relate to her mother through their predicament, and even now that everything had _somewhat _returned to normal, their relationship seemed better than ever.

_Seemed_.

But Merida was just waiting for the one argument that would cause everything they had built up to come crumbling down again. Perhaps she was just being cynical, but somewhere deep inside her, there was that nagging doubt that they could keep up this friendly atmosphere for much longer. After all, despite everything that they had been through together on the journey to rescue her mother from a terrible fate, Merida knew that the two of them had quite a history of being able to bicker over the simplest things. So far, things seemed calm enough around the castle, but she couldn't help but wonder what it would take to send the strong relationship they had now flying out the window. Well, whatever might come of the future, the young Scottish princess was determined to make certain that her new understanding with Queen Elinor would be kept intact for a long while. She had already come close to ruining everything once, and she wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

Huffing irritably, Merida stood from the little wooden chair she had been sitting down on, blowing a curly strand of crimson hair out of the way of her eyes as she crossed the room, heading for the door. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to get her mind off all the doubt and guilty feelings weighing onto her heart. And the weather was so still and calm today, just at the perfect temperature, that she knew right away what she wanted to do. Grabbing her bow and set of arrows from a nearby shelf on the wall, she grinned secretively to herself and practically marched out the door, heading for the stables. If there was one thing that could always manage to take all that stress off her shoulders, it was riding through the woods with her beloved horse, Angus. Just a few hours spent over target practice in the woods, or just taking a quick ride through the glen, always seemed to be able to clear her head. Given all the excitement of the past few days, a little time to herself in the forest was just what Merida needed.

By the time Merida made it outside to the stables, a light mist had fallen over the land, covering the mountainous horizon in a hazy veil. The breezy weather tossed her wild curls to and fro as she strode briskly along, looking for the familiar compartment where Angus was kept tied to a wooden post. Finally, her icy blue eyes fell upon an enormous black-and-white Clydesdale, and her face lit up. Beaming up at her horse, she hopped the wooden fence blocking him inside the stables, then gave Angus an affectionate pat between the eyes. Feeding him an apple she had swiped from the table in the dining hall, she winked conspiratorially at her partner-in-crime. Angus snorted upon finishing off the apple, clopping his hooves with a surprising eagerness against the wooden flooring, sending straws of hay and flecks of dust flying into the air.

"Alrigh', alrigh', ya big brute. I'm goin'," muttered Merida, holding out her hands, fingers splayed, in an attempt to appease the horse's overenthusiasm. After a few seconds, Angus grew still, and the redhead chuckled, clicking her tongue and giving her head a slight shake. "Yer nothin' but a spoiled baby, are ye?" She scratched behind the horse's ear, readying herself for ascent.

Just as she began to mount Angus, however, a voice from behind her intruded on her escape mission.

"Ah! Weeeeelll, what've we got here, then? Sneakin' off without permission, are ye, Princess?"

Merida groaned, immediately recognizing the smarmy, almost nasal voice over her shoulder. Sure enough, when she dismounted the horse, tossing her hair and looking behind her, she found _him_ staring back, a smirk lifting the corners of his lips. It was that boy from the Macintosh clan, one of the three suitors who had fought to win her hand. And, if Merida recalled correctly, it was _this _particular suitor that she disliked the most out of the three. As he stood before her now, he looked as arrogant and foolhardy as ever, his arms still patterned with that ridiculous blue war paint of which Lord Macintosh seemed so fond. His eyes, blue as sapphires, were the only part of him that Merida thought could be beautiful. _Could _be, if they, too, weren't sparkling with a haughty mirth as he gazed over at her. Folding her arms defensively across her chest, Merida bit her lower lip and gave him a quick once-over, unimpressed by the champion demeanor he was trying - and _failing _- to exude.

"Aye," she answered in return, her tone short and clipped. "I don't reckon ye've go' a _problem _with tha', 'ave yeh?"

Young Macintosh considered this for a moment. Merida smirked, practically able to see the gears in the youth's head turning as he contemplated his options. He could sense her displeasure with his presence, clearly, but, knowing his overconfident personality, she didn't expect him to be deterred quite so soon. Sure enough, it only took about ten seconds for him to decide to clear the fence, as well, landing expertly on the other side, his wavy brown hair bouncing as his feet hit the ground again. Leaning against the wooden post casually, he fiddled absently with a piece of straw as he continued speaking.

Shrugging, he said, "Don't _suppose_ I do. In fact, I almost expect i' of yeh. I don't know ye as well as I'd like to, Princess, bu' I do see that yer no' one fer the rules. I remember what yeh did a' the archery competition." He looked up from the straw pinched between his index finger and thumb, giving her that same amused smirk, though not quite as triumphant as his previous facial expression. "There's a righ' lot o'men back home that'd give thar righ' arms ta be able ta shoot like tha'."

"Thank yeh." Merida nodded shortly, narrowing her eyes and tilting her head to the side, slightly suspicious. Since when would this proud man _ever_ acknowledge that a _woman_ was a better archer than himself? It all had to be a setup, a plot of some sort; after all, the three clans had been outraged after Merida had shot those arrows during the contest for her hand. Finally figuring out what his game was, her hands moved sternly to her hips, taking on a fiery attitude that she had inherited from her father, King Fergus. "I suppose yeh think tha' if ye pay me a complimen' like tha' one, I'll go runnin' inta yer arms and ye'll get what yer after. Don't ye?" She paused for a second or two, then broke into snorts and chuckles without giving him time to answer. "Well, yer no' the brigh'es' one in tha' clan, are yeh? I'd think again if I were ye!"

The smirk on his face quickly contorted into an angry scowl. Eyes widening incredulously, his relaxed posture immediately went rigid, the muscles in his shoulders and upper arms tensing visibly. Clenching his hands into tight fists at his sides, he advanced a step forward, forcing Merida to recoil from his spit as he fired back, "Now, I'm no' abou' ta le' a silly _girl _like ye just _assume _things abou' _me _- "

"Well, _good_ fer ye, because I'm no' assumin' a _damn _thing!" snapped Merida in return, surprised and a little taken aback to see what had started out as playful banter turn into an actual argument. It seemed she had a certain talent for angering those around her; she had a tongue that, even now, after getting into serious trouble for it, she could still barely keep under control.

A long silence followed, heavy between the two of them as they stared one another down. Merida's eyes still held that fierce, fearless glare, daring him to challenge her, and Young Macintosh's eyes were wide and furious. He had leaned in so closely to her during his raging little tantrum that she could now see flecks of silver color swirling in his irises, his long, bulbous nose nearly pressed against hers. Giving an agitated little 'humph', the princess shook her head and backed away, if only because their closeness was making an unnecessary heat rise to her rounded cheeks, and their conversation had distracted her from her horseback riding mission. The mist had turned into a full-fledged rain by this point, though it was a light, manageable drizzle. If she made it now before the thunder started, she might still have a chance of getting some target practice in for the day.

"I'm no' assumin' anythin', because I already know how _yew_ act," Merida murmured as she busied herself with brushing Angus, trying to keep herself distracted. Now all too aware of his presence in the stable, she bit hard onto her lower lip and shook her head. "Yeh behave as if yeh think tha' the whole world's go' ta be grovellin' over yeh a' any an' all hours of the day. Yeh've prob'ly go' a girl in _ev'ry _kingdom yer clan's ever visited. An' the only reason yer even _talkin' _to me now is mah family. If yeh can manage to catch yerself a _princess_, it'd make ye look good in fron' of yer father."

She looked up from Angus's glossy black coat, raising an eyebrow curiously as she saw the expression on Macintosh's face soften ever so slightly. Where there had seconds earlier been outrage and embarrassment, there was now a look of almost-weariness in the boy's eyes. He tossed his hair absentmindedly, for the first time looking actually _vulnerable_. The cockiness in the way that he held herself seemed to have evaporated in an instant. Meeting her gaze, the smirk returned to his features and he shook his head slowly, giving a dry, humorless laugh.

"Le' me ask yeh somethin', Princess. Why d'ye think I'm even _here _teh begin with?" His eyebrows slowly raised, to the point that Merida thought they might disappear behind all those brunette waves. He gave her a questioning look, but when all she could do was shrug and mutely shake her head with bemusement, he sighed and rubbed his face, gathering his patience. After a few seconds, he spoke up again, his voice a little less sardonic and cold than before. "Take a good look a' me. I'm still right young, only twenty. I've go' mah whole life teh live, bu' mah father says I ough'a ge' _married_? So the nex' thing I know, I'm bein' dragged off ta go try an' win the hear' of a princess. Don't _assume_ tha' I wanted teh marry _ye_ any more'n ye wanted teh marry _me. _I only wan' mah own _freedom_. Bu' mah dad won't have any o' tha'. The only reason I'm even here now is so tha' I can make 'im _proud _of me."

Taking all this into account, Merida blinked, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she contemplated this. Well, it turned out that she really _didn't _know as much about Young Macintosh that she thought she did. Of course, it did not in the least change the fact that he was still arrogant and unbearably obnoxious, but at least now she had a better understanding of _why_ it was he behaved that way. Perhaps the confident, uppity young man that the entire world saw wasn't _really_ all there was to him. Maybe that was just what Macintosh _thought_ he should be, to make those around him respect and love him more. Merida had to admit, she could relate to having to bend and flex to be able to meet the expectations of others. After all, having people closely monitoring your every move, having your opinions influence an entire country, all came with the territory of being royalty.

And, given his entire speech, it had just occured to Merida that perhaps the marriage idea had not been entirely one-sided from the beginning. She had been so upset about being forced to choose a suitor when she wasn't yet ready, she hadn't even considered the fact that the three suitors were all young, as well. They had probably all been just as fearful as she had been, from the very start of it all. Then again, Young Macintosh clearly knew his way when it came to wooing women, which made it difficult for her to believe that he had been apprehensive or nervous about it at all. He seemed confident enough in himself to automatically believe that any woman would consider themselves lucky to be betrothed to him, and even if all this snobbish behavior really happened to be a front, Merida still could not see him wanting to back away from the challenge. Either he was just telling a lie to smooth things over, or she really did have a lot more to learn about each of the three men who had journeyed to the kingdom to seek her hand.

Just before she was about to ask him another question, however, she spotted someone walking to the stables. Glancing over Young Macintosh's shoulder to get a better look, she squinted through the rain and made out a tall, lanky silhouette. The man approaching them had a wild wane of dark hair, sticking out erratically from his head at varying angles. Blue war paint decorated his face, and his thin lips were pulled taut in a displeased line. His stride was brisk, purposeful, mirroring that of his son's.

"Speakin' of yer father, there 'e is." Merida lifted her index finger and gestured over to him distractedly, her brow furrowed. "Looks _angry_, too. S'pose ye'd better be goin' now." She paused, pursing her lips, then, turning back to her horse, said in a low voice, almost a whisper, "Nice talkin' with ye." Another long, uncomfortable pause. "...I reckon I ough' to apologize to yeh, as well." She nodded curtly, her back still facing him, unable to force the actual apology from her throat. "Bu' I'll give ye a warnin'. Ye'd best prove teh me tha' yeh even deserve an apology in the firs' place."

Young Macintosh cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he took her words into consideration. Giving her a small, surprisingly boyish grin - which Merida immediately decided she liked better than that infuriating little smirk - he nodded his head slowly. He laughed softly, then climbed nimbly back over the fence, waving to her from the other side.

"I can guarantee, Princess, I won't le' yeh down." He gave her a playful wink, his obvious charisma making Merida wonder for a few moments why _she_ was the royal one and he wasn't. Not that he deserved the title in the slightest, but his talent of being able to turn situations in his favor without even batting an eyelash seemed like it would come in handy when trying to lead a kingdom. "Since I'm leavin' tomorrow, would yeh like to meet me in the woods in abou' fifteen minutes in order teh discuss i' more?"

He lifted his eyebrows expectantly, and Merida felt her cheeks turn such a dark shade of red that even the freckles on her nose were tinted pink with it. Disgusted in herself for her girlish behavior around such a conceited, annoying little man, she bit her lower lip and backed away a step. Still, despite her apprehension concerning Young Macintosh, she had to admit, he did seem sincere enough about it. She certainly was not naive to the advances of a man, however, and was also well aware that the boy could have much more in mind than just talking leisurely in the forest. Doubtless he had pulled this trick with numerous other women, and Merida was certainly not going to allow herself to be the next victim.

Not even bothering to hide the growing suspicion in her tone, Merida asked, "An' how'm I s'posed teh know tha' yeh won't try somethin' on me when we're alone, lad? An' besides tha', i' migh' be stormin' in fifteen minutes. Haven't yeh noticed the weather?"

"Well, I s'pose yer goin' teh have teh take mah word, aren't yeh?" he answered, giving his lean shoulders a casual, quick shrug. "As fer the storm, tha' is a problem tha' can be easily fixed. There's a cave deep in the forest. If yeh show up on time, we could go on horseback an' find it fast enough. Maybe in the meantime, ye'd like teh show me some more of yer archery?" There wasn an unmistakable challenging note in his voice when he finished his sentence, that familiar smirk back on his face once again. "Tha' is, _if _yer no' afraid of a little thunder."

"Wha' are ye _talkin_' abou'? I'm no' scared," said Merida indignantly, wrinkling her nose with distaste. "Alrigh'. Fine. I'll go. Bu' _only _teh show you mah archery, go' it?"

Well, that..._and_ she thought that, perhaps just this once, he deserved to be given a chance.

Just once.


End file.
